"Just as I thought," said Brent to himself. "It was a dog, and a villanous-looking cur, too. Exactly the sort of brute to howl and shriek at the moon on a night like this."
But, as he sauntered back to the house, various doubts entered his mind. He reflected that he had seen the animal only for an instant, by moonlight and at some distance, and that he could not be sure it was really a dog. Neither could he be confident it had uttered the mysterious cry, for while it was within his sight it had made no sound of any kind. "Perhaps it went up there for the same reason I did,—to find out what was going on," he thought.
As usual, he ended by informing himself that he was under no responsibility to settle the question, and that, as far as he was concerned, it would probably remain unsettled.
The next morning he found the farmer and his wife very much depressed, but he had no hope of being able to convince them that they had heard nothing supernatural, and thought it best to avoid the subject. He passed the day in calling on some of the neighbors who had asked him to visit them, and returned to the farm-house just before nightfall.
He found Rena standing at the door, and, while talking to her, he mentioned his moonlight walk.
"I saw what I took to be a stray dog up there," he said. "Perhaps it made the sound we heard."
"Was it a black dog, with rough, curly hair?" asked Rena.
"I think it was; but I couldn't see it very well. Do you know whose it is?"
"No; but this morning when I came out of the dairy a dog that looked like that was standing in the path, a little way off, and I was thinking it might have been the same one."
As she looked away again, Brent said, "I didn't tell your father and mother about the dog I saw, because I thought it would be well for them to forget the whole matter as soon as possible."